


spark

by chameleonchanging



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Turn Left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/pseuds/chameleonchanging
Summary: Wolffe takes a chance with his General on leave.A "what if" for Ch 9, [ lit ]: Plo Koon stays after lighting Wolffe's cigarette.
Relationships: Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	spark

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i take from you everything you will allow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776939) by [chameleonchanging](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/pseuds/chameleonchanging). 



“Just a parlor trick,” says Plo Koon, and, “I’ll make my way back to the _Triumphant_ myself,” turning away, but he’s caught Wolffe’s interest now, and Wolffe is feeling bold on the combination of smoke and drink. **  
**

“Wait a minute and I’ll come with you,” Wolffe says, leaning back against the wall, a hand cupped around the end of his cigarette as it begins to burn. The General shrugs and joins him. They stand in silence.

“Please forgive my ignorance, Commander,” says the General at last, “but I would have thought you would rather spend the night with your brothers than on ship.” He folds his hands in front of him. The light catches on his talon covers. The design is more intricate than Wolffe had thought, engravings from the base to the tip meeting and branching and converging at the razor sharp point.

“They’ll have more fun without me,” Wolffe grumbles. “Burdens of rank. Same reason you’re out here instead of letting Abesh tiptoe around you.” 

“I see,” says the General. “Do you ever get the opportunity to enjoy yourself with your peers, then?” He tilts his head. 

“Not recently,” says Wolffe. His squad from training are spread across the stars, each commanding their own units. With Cody on one end of the galaxy, Bly on the other, and all of them assigned to different system armies, it’s near impossible to get everyone together even virtually.

“It sounds lonely,” says the General. 

“Is it different from how you live?” Wolffe asks. Something in the General’s tone says he speaks with the voice of experience, not conjecture. That too is intriguing. 

“I suppose not,” says the General. “Or not terribly so, Commander.”

Wolffe puts out his cigarette against the brick and steps forward, spinning on his heel to face his General. Now he seems wistful, and whatever half-formed idea had been forming in his mind slips away in favor of another. “I’m off-duty,” he says. “Call me Wolffe. Have a drink with me, sir.”

For the first time, the man seems surprised, and then he smiles. “All right. But call me Plo.”


End file.
